Renee says that, at our age, all the really good guys are married or gay.
While I admit I haven’t found any interesting single men in New Jersey, I think my single status has more to do with the condition of my heart than the quality of available men around me. My heart has had more fuckings than a strategically placed brothel. She’s not a virgin anymore; she’s lost her purity, her innocence… her trusting nature. She’s opened herself up so many times, she’s numb to any pleasure she may receive.
“Au suivant!” (Next!)
At 16, my heart was young and receptive and grabbed onto my first love with a tight clench. It hurt, in that wonderful, hurts-so-good way.
And with every subsequent love, I forged the protective walls around her until she became impenetrable – a home-made chastity belt for my heart. Beneath the barricade, she still beats, waiting expectantly. In the meantime, she learns to love herself, since that’s all she has. She experiments in her attempt to replicate the feelings of ecstasy that come with reciprocal love, sometimes ending with empty dissatisfaction, and sometimes surprising herself by stimulating new parts she never knew existed.